


kiwi

by victoriachase



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexuality, Dirty Talk, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, POC Harry Potter, Public Blow Jobs, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Veritaserum, lots of drinking basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriachase/pseuds/victoriachase
Summary: Harry thinks Draco's up to something, Draco thinks Harry has poor taste in wine, and the universe is out to get them both (together)! Or, as I like to think of it, Harry drinks too much and takes several years to work out he's bi!





	kiwi

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly self-indulgent mini-scenes/conversations between Draco and Harry during various points in time. The title and part of the fic's plot have been taken from the song Kiwi from Harry Styles' recent self-titled album. Chapter titles will be taken from Mass of the Children by Rutter. I'll try to write/update the chapters when I can but I'm super busy with exams at the moment (I probably shouldn't even be writing this fic right now). I apologise for the quality of this fic, I've no beta at the moment and I'm writing this at 1am, but kudos and feedback are much appreciated! Feel free to leave comments or hit me up on twitter at: @buiidgods :)

**December, 1999**

*

_"Tell me something true."_

To tell the truth, Harry wasn't sure how he had ended up in this situation, but then again it wasn't unusual for things to just  _happen_  to him. The universe, or something, was either really out to get him, or just trying to deliver cosmic messages about his purpose on Earth. Which, at the moment, was apparently hanging out with Draco Malfoy in the bathroom of a Camden bar, after having seen him for the first time since the war trials. The universe was _evil_.

To be fair, Harry also hadn’t been expecting to see Malfoy bringing in the New Year by doing lines off a sink in a muggle bar, but he supposed it was just one of those days.

If he had to be honest with himself, he found it more a surprise (and maybe attractive?) that Malfoy’s eyes were rimmed with deep, dark kohl and his tell-tale buttery blond hair had been charmed to sparkle – were those _actual_ stars? – than Malfoy’s presence in a muggle bar. After all, _The Prophet_ had been eager to report the misdemeanours of ‘Britain’s favourite reformed Death Eater’.

Not that Harry read the articles. Or cared. Just as he didn’t care now about the fact that he and Malfoy had somehow ended up summoning a bottle of wine from somewhere – Goblin wine, by the taste of it, Harry had initially thought – after an _almost_ duel, followed by stilted attempts at amicable conversation (made difficult by Harry’s perpetual suspicion, and Draco’s burst of energy).

Harry thought it was probably somewhere between Malfoy offering him a bump and Malfoy giving a babbled explanation as to why he was currently high in Camden instead of celebrating with his friends (which he fervently assured Harry he had _many_ of) when the suggestion of a quick _accio_ and a locked door stopped feeling strange.

It wasn’t that Harry wanted to be _friends_ with Malfoy, but with the rest of his _actual_ friends all off either fucking or fighting to start the millennium off, he supposed that fate was giving him no choice. It made some sort of twisted sense, if he thought about it hard enough.

“This is absolute filth, Potter,” Malfoy said taking a swig from the bottle, “Where on Earth did you find this muck?”

Harry shrugged, “You’re the one who suggested we have some, I just did the spell.”

“God, I’m going to have to do another line if I’m to endure this,” Malfoy declared, “Though,” he continued with a frown, “I’ve only got enough left for two bumps.” He paused, leaving Harry feeling tense and wrong-footed, as though he were a first year back at Hogwarts again.

“Do you- would you like to, that is, share it out?” Which, Harry thought, was most likely the point at which he thought _fuck it, I’m already sitting here getting wasted with_ Malfoy _what difference could it make?_

A lot, it turned out. Because, contrary to what Harry had thought upon first seeing Malfoy in the loos, it wasn’t coke that he was offering. Instead, he found out upon taking the proffered tenner that Malfoy had somehow managed to get pure powdered _Veritaserum_. Which, he supposed, was how he had ended up here; drunk, slightly buzzed, and meeting the demands of a former Death Eater. He'd already confessed enough to Malfoy about having to spend New Year's alone, and learnt far too much about Malfoy's friends in the process.

_“Tell me something true.”_

He didn’t really have much choice. 

“I want you,” he felt the words tumbling from his lips almost before he’d had a chance to think them. Harry’s embarrassment and confusion threatened to spill out of him, curling up his throat like thorns on a rose. “I’m not gay,” he said. Because he wasn’t, and the magic proved it. 

Of course, it was at this moment that an itchy voice at the back of his mind, which sounded suspiciously like Hermione’s, reminded him that _Malfoy_ was. Because although Harry avoided _The Prophet_ like the plague, he’d have had to have been blind to have missed the photos of Malfoy draped over men’s shoulders in clubs, laying across their laps, biting at their necks.

Malfoy hardly reacted; he continued to smirk, the ghost of a cruel curl of his pretty mouth, not once taking his eyes off of Harry, while lighting a cigarette with the tip of his wand.

“Is that so, Potter,” he drawled, dragging on his cigarette, “and _what_ exactly is it that you want from me, then, if you’re not gay?” There was a weight to his question, and Harry could feel all sorts of answers close to bursting out of him. He breathed.

“What do _you_ want from me?” Harry chose to reply, barely avoiding the choking feeling of telling a lie he knew he would have had to face.

Malfoy paled at that. Harry _knew_ he shouldn’t feel triumphant, because he hadn’t yet gained the upper hand, but he could tell that he had managed to get at Malfoy, just as he used to be able to back when they were back in 6 th year biting out sharp curses and insults and trying to hurt, hurt, hurt.

“I want,” he said, looking very obviously pained, “I don’t- I mean, I-”

Harry was already feeling hazy, but the palpable tension in the tiny space began to grow thicker, almost stifling. Harry himself didn’t know where this was leading; Malfoy could say anything from ‘I want you to dress like a Hippogriff’ to ‘I want you to perform a tap dance in the Forbidden Forest.’ The answers were limitless.

Harry wasn’t expecting to hear a mumbled, ‘Want you on your knees, Potter.’

He wasn’t expecting to want it either. And yet, something raw in Malfoy’s voice when he repeated it louder for Harry to smirk at gave him pause.

“I’ll do it,” he heard himself say, “I mean, I’ve never- I’m not,” he stuttered out, infinitely regretting having even gone to the loos in the first place. (Had he even needed to go?)

He looked at Malfoy, eyes already a dark, stormy grey, watching as he stood up. Malfoy unzipped his jeans (since when did _Malfoys_ wear muggle clothes?) revealing his cock, long, flushed red and half hard.

“Never thought I’d have this,” he bit out, stroking himself roughly, “never thought I’d see Harry Potter, the _chosen one_ , on his knees on _Veritaserum_ , and for _me._ ”

Harry moved closer to Draco, kneeling.

“You’re not _gay_ ,” Malfoy sneered, “no one’s ever had you like this before, kneeling so patiently and waiting for it. Want me to fuck your throat, Potter?”

Harry was staying away from all potions forever, he decided, especially ones that made him honest enough to spit out, “Yes.”

Malfoy groaned, low and filthy and it went straight to Harry’s cock. How could he want this so much and not be gay? _Veritaserum_ never lies.

Malfoy wound his fingers in Harry’s hair, guiding his head close enough to him for Harry to _smell_ Malfoy’s arousal. _How did he end up_ here _?_ He thought. He didn’t _plan_ to be spending New Year’s Eve on his knees about to suck dick for the first time in his life. Things just sort of _happened_.

Harry could see that Malfoy was hard. Like, really hard. So he opened his mouth.

Malfoy let out a groan again, deep and guttural before thrusting erratically into Harry’s mouth.

“You like that, don’t you, like being used like a little bitch. Never had to let someone else have power over you, have you?” Draco asked, tugging on Harry’s hair. The weight of a cock in his mouth felt foreign and all sorts of strange; he was struggling not to gag around the length of Malfoy, while trying to maintain his breathing all at once. He felt a pang of guilt at that, realising that when Ginny had done this to him when they had been together she’d had all of this to balance out as well.  Although, in retrospect, surely Harry had never been as rough with her as Malfoy was being now?

He swallowed the urge to let out a moan, but when he tasted Malfoy’s pre-com, salty on his tongue, he let out a groan of his own around him.

“God, you like it like this, don’t you, filthy and quick. Fuck, we’re still in the loos as well – I’m having sleazy bathroom sex with _Harry Potter_ ”. Malfoy groaned, sounding like he was almost in awe. Harry pulled off of him, taking a deep breath, before resuming his previous position. He’d almost worked out how best to let Malfoy fuck his throat when he heard it – the New Year’s countdown. He knew Malfoy had heard it too as he shifted _just_  before his dirty-talking _filthy_ mouth started to let out shallow, quickened breaths as he approached his climax.

When the rest of the bar had reached zero, Malfoy came on Harry’s face, hot streaks of cum splashing against Harry’s cheeks, his glasses, the white liquid a stark contrast with his toffee brown skin. He looked up at Draco’s blissful, post-orgasm expression, and back down at himself. He didn’t know at what point the _Veritaserum_ had worn off, but it was enough for Harry to whisper in shock, “I shouldn’t have done this,” before turning on his heel and Apparating home, the fireworks signalling the millennium echoing around him.

*

Still shaking with the horror of what he had allowed himself to do, Harry ran to his shower, turned it on at full blast and came, letting the water wash away his sins.


End file.
